


Doctor John Watson - Master of Fellatio

by da_petty



Series: Den of Iniquities [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Glancing Brush of Vampirism So That John Can Use Glamor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF John Watson, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, But not much of a plot so don't get your hopes up for a clever mystery., Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Dialogue Heavy, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Crack, Horny Sherlock Holmes, Hypnotism, Killer Gets Away With It, Love at First Sight, Lube, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery Where the Killer is Insultingly Obvious, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson., Pointless, Porn With Plot, Prostitute John Watson, Ridiculous, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock's First Time, Top John Watson, wysiwyg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: There's to a serial killer in town. Four bodies in four weeks. All with their throats ripped out. They had several things in common but what caught Sherlock's attention was the fact that all four were clients of Irene's. The most interesting thing? All four men had standing reservations with one Doctor John Watson who is supposedly so amazing at oral sex, he's booked weeks in advance.Irene gets Sherlock an appointment to interview Doctor Watson about the victims but Watson has more than talking on his mind...





	1. The Scene of the Crime

Prologue

Sherlock stood in front of Irene Adler’s high end brothel contemplating his current case. 

Four men had been found murdered in as many weeks; throats torn out and almost completely drained of blood. While draining a body of blood was a bit…unusual, it had occurred before so it wasn’t unheard of. However, the difference here was the fact that the victims appeared to have been killed in situ - it wasn’t a body dump. That and each victim had died with a distinctly happy, almost post-coital smile on their face. 

Although you wouldn’t know to look at him, Sherlock Holmes could barely contain his excitement. He thought that this case was easily an eight, possibly a nine, and he was beside himself with joy. The past few months had been deadly dull and despite Lestrade throwing him a metaphorical bone from time to time to keep his mind occupied, it wasn’t enough to stop his ever increasing craving for oblivion. He just wanted to get high and stay high until something interesting finally came along. Unfortunately, Lestrade and Sherlock’s twat of a brother were keeping close tabs on him. 

Sherlock could have made more of an effort to procure what he wanted but it was just too much bother. And so he lay on his couch in 221b and thought up new and clever insults to throw at his brother the next time he decided to step his fat foot over the threshold. 

Truth be told, Sherlock enjoyed their little sparring matches. They both did. They were evenly matched in wit and intellect and had yet to find anyone that met either of those requirements, much less someone who had both. Not that they’d actually looked. 

They were more than content with their opponent and god forbid they should team up for a joint attack against someone else. Many a person had been left feeling traumatized and emotionally beaten afterwards. The brothers enjoyed those times most of all and it was one of the rare occasions when you could find them smiling at the same time.

But finally! A case! Not just any case either. A case worthy of Sherlock’s time and intellect. The corner of his mouth pulled up, a smile almost, but not quite, lighting his eyes. The average person would never recognize it as such. It was better described as a smirk that a shark would give you. Right before they ate you. If sharks could smirk, that is. 

Sherlock kept turning the crime scenes over and over in his head. He had an almost photographic memory but he still had a desperate need to touch, feel, and see things. He used these things in combination with technology with very satisfactory results. 

Certainly, he could do one without the other; he was a genius after all, but that would be a waste of his valuable time - even if that time was just spent lying on the couch. 

Combining these things created a fully formed virtual image that he could access at any time via his Mind Palace thus creating a crime scene that Sherlock could manipulate at will. Yes. A very useful tool. 

This case. It was a complicated puzzle and he intended to enjoy it right down to its last bloody drop. To the outside world, he might seem ghoulish but inside, where it mattered, he not only recognized his ghoulishness but reveled in it. 

It’s not as if he were the murderer after all. But if there was an intriguing crime, what was the harm in expressing interest and enjoyment in the aftermath? It was already done, after all. He really didn’t see what the problem was but he tried to keep his excitement to himself, often with little success. 

It definitely cut down on time wasted trading insults with Anderson and Donovan. Although he did indulge in trading barbs with them on those occasions when a case wasn’t interesting enough to hold his attention. A bored Sherlock was a dangerous, borderline malicious Sherlock.

But this case? Every new detail would cause him to reevaluate the data which was something that hadn’t happened in…had that ever happened? He didn’t think so. Was it possible that this case would turn out to be a ten? Impossible. 

Still, he kept a tiny spark of hope alive in a room in the Palace set aside for the things that he considered to be too ridiculous allow himself think about. But in the back of his mind, a little voice whispered ‘what if they aren’t ridiculous?’ So they remained intentionally hidden from himself but readily accessible just incase the day should come where something surprised him. Because of this, it was a very small room.

How had the murderer…what? Taken? Suctioned? Removed? Syphoned? All of that blood. Around 5,700 milliliters - without spilling a drop - from each man. Sherlock thought back to the state of the victim’s throats. Well, almost without spilling a drop. He was fairly confident that the damage was caused to intentionally hide the evidence of the type of weapon used but even then; the damage seemed…excessive. 

There were footprints in the muddy river bank around the body but they were virtually useless. Even to Sherlock. The water lapping at the shore had made them resemble nothing so much as morse code. Sherlock was brilliant but translating dots and dashes into a shoe size was beyond even him.

He took pictures anyway even as the surf gradually erased them until there was nothing left but foam and muddy sand. Even if he never found a use for them, better to have them than not.

All of the victims were murdered here on the bank of the Thames. And how could you convince four individuals that the Thames was a good place to get together? Sex and or drugs, obviously. Of course, there weren’t any witnesses. Not any who were willing to come forward, at least. They’d likely been up to no good here as well.

The victims had several things in common; they were around the same age - early thirties - with an athletic build. The were also relatively attractive, before the murder, that is, although there was definitely a certain type of person who would find them more attractive now. 

They were all wealthy and had had important positions in government, and commerce. 

They’d all been regular customers of Irene Adler’s brothel [see None Given for background] which was de rigueur among the young ton and homosexuality was in vogue now - you had to be ‘seen’ at Irene’s brothel to be considered one of the movers and shakers in society. 

And, most importantly: all four were friends.

Many members of this group weren’t actually gay - or so they told themselves - and mainly went to be seen and get a blowjob under the ‘all cats are grey in the dark’ system as well as maintaining their ‘cover.’ Sherlock despised posers so the victims had already started out with one strike against them.

It wasn’t only their use of Irene’s business, it was the fact that all four had been ‘clients’ of one John Watson. 

Apparently this Watson fellow was extremely popular and was booked solid weeks in advance so the fact that they’d all been customers of his didn’t necessarily mean anything. It could be coincidence but Sherlock didn’t believe in coincidences which is what brought him to where he was now standing.

Sherlock had tried to arrange an interview but the only way that Watson would see him was as a customer. Fortunately, Irene hadn’t yet cleared the dead men from Doctor Watson’s schedule. She ‘gave’ Sherlock four 15 minute units of the victims’ time so that he could have enough time for a fairly decent interrogation. 

Sherlock was paying for the pleasure of interviewing a prostitute. Sort of. He’d charged it to Mycroft’s black AMEX and made the appointment with Doctor Watson without either guilt or regret.

He wondered if this would be the charge that broke the camel’s back with Mycroft. Sherlock knew that Mycroft paid attention to his purchases but rarely said a word about them. He just paid the bills as they came due. 

Spending money in a brothel didn’t quite compare to the purchase of lab equipment and chemicals though. Sherlock actually hoped that Mycroft would mention it. There was the potential for a huge row over this and it had been a long time since they’d really gone at each other. Sherlock smiled to himself. Yes, something else to look forward to in addition to catching the murderer. 

He could have gotten Lestrade to bring Watson in for questioning but Sherlock hadn’t shared the brothel or Watson connection with him yet. Scotland Yard had a habit of charging in and mucking up the evidence. No. They wouldn’t get Watson until Sherlock had wrung every last detail from him about the victims.

He stepped up to the door and knocked. A lovely woman with auburn hair and a polished demeanor opened the door and gestured him into the sitting room with a smile.

“If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let Mistress Adler know that you’re here.”

“Standing is fine. I don’t expect to be kept waiting for long.” 

This was not said smugly, it was just a statement of fact but the auburn haired woman didn’t take it that way; a brief look of annoyance crossing her face before her placid mask snapped instantly back into place.

Sherlock once again sifted through the evidence in his head. John Watson was the best lead that he had so far and he was anxious to get started.

“Sherlock,” Irene Adler said, entering the room gracefully. She held her hand out.

“Irene,” Sherlock said, holding her delicate fingers in his grasp for slightly longer than the average greeting warranted. Irene felt chills down her spine and her nipples began to harden. ‘He’s such a tease,’ she thought.

Taking her hand back, she cleared her throat and said,

“So you want to interview Doctor Watson?”

“Yes. He’s the main lead in the recent spate of murders. All four men had been customers…”

“Clients,” Irene interjected.

“Clients,” Sherlock corrected automatically, “of John Watson. Each of them had at least two standing appointments each to, ah, avail themselves of his services.”

“Many of John’s clients have regularly scheduled appointments with him. They rarely miss a date. Doctor Watson has a strict rule about last minute cancellations. You get one pass but should you repeat it, he’ll drop you off of his schedule until he feels that you’ve learned your lesson. He’s very strict you see, and talented. It’s rare for anyone to be late to an appointment much less miss one.”

“Do all of your employees have that level of client dedication?”

“I expect all of my employees to adhere to a high standard of service here. If they’re unable to live up to that standard, they’re told to seek employment elsewhere and sent on their way. Doctor Watson, though, is a godsend.” 

“How so?”

“He’s the oldest employee here by at least 10 years. He’s 39 and has become a de facto father figure of sorts, to the staff. He provides a shoulder to cry on as well as seeing to any minor health issues that they might have. All of this was unasked. He just jumped right in. He enjoys helping people.” Irene said without irony.

“And, what type of…service does he perform here? Jack of all trades?”

“No. He has a specialty and I don’t have anyone who comes close to his level of proficiency in that area.”

“’That area?’ What does he specialize in?” Sherlock asked.

“Oral sex. He’s considered the Master of Fellatio. That’s actually the name his clients use to book time with him.”

“What makes him so…special?” Sherlock asked, the tips of his ears turning red.

Irene noticed this, gave a small smile and continued.

“He can bring a client off in under five minutes. They leave singing his praises saying that it was better than intercourse and that they’d never let anyone else suck their cock again because no one could ever compare to Doctor Watson.”

“You keep calling him ‘Doctor Watson’. Is he actually a doctor or is that an appellation bestowed upon him by your staff?” Sherlock asked. His ears were still red and a faint flush had begun to rise up his chest towards his neck. 

He was distinctly uncomfortable with the details of Doctor Watson’s…skill. Not that he was a prude really, but he didn’t want to think about cock sucking while on a case or any time really. He’d merely asked out of curiosity. He was married to his work and his cock was basically dormant at this point in his life and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Yes. He’s a former army surgeon. Very good with his hands. Gentle or rough per the clients requests. You should really ask him to show you his technique.” Irene said, a wicked smile on her lips.

“No. Thank you. That won’t be necessary.” Sherlock said, subtly shifting his leg trying to get his stiffening cock into a more comfortable position.

Irene definitely noticed though; her smile brightened even further.

“Well, your loss. You’ve paid for an hour of his time. That’s quite a lot of money. Will Scotland Yard reimburse you?”

“No. I won’t be discussing this with Scotland Yard,” Sherlock said, annoyed. One mention of the Yard and his erection began deflating almost immediately. Thank god.

“Do you have any other questions for me? It’s almost half nine and you don’t want to keep Doctor Watson waiting; trust me.”

“Just a few more. Does Doctor Watson work here full time or does he have a day job as a surgeon?”

“He’s here full time. He makes more here in a week than he’d make in an entire year working in a clinic and he’s found a niche market that he’s cornered. As I said, he’s very good. Very talented. It’s almost supernatural at times. How he doesn’t have lockjaw by now, I don’t know.” Irene said, admiration clear in her voice.

“Yes, well…” Sherlock’s ears were growing warm again. Dammit!

“That’s not pertinent to my case so I won’t be needing any further details.”

“Are you sure? It really is fascinating,” Irene said, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a knowing smile.

“Very. I want to talk about his clients. What were they like?” Sherlock interjected quickly before Irene could go into anymore detail regarding Doctor Watson’s ’specialty.’ 

Oh, he was aware that she was enjoying herself at his expense but he wanted to ask a few more questions before he began the interview. All of this other nonsense was superfluous to the case and he wasn’t interested in discussing it further - no matter what Irene - or his cock - seemed to think.

“They were obnoxious trust fund babies. All four of them had violent tempers. My employees always came away with deep purple bruises on their bodies, the pain obvious in their walk.”

“What did you do about it?”

“What could I do? The employees refused to complain. They’d say that the client just liked it a little rough. Obviously, I didn’t believe that but there’s not much I can do if they won’t talk to me about it. My hands were tied.”

“Were they also customers of Doctor Watson’s during this time?” Sherlock asked.

“No. No. That happened just recently. Doctor Watson approached me about the injuries. He was concerned that the violence was escalating and he asked to intervene before something happened that couldn’t be cured by ice and iodine. He’s a very caring individual. 

He’s made himself the unofficial protector of his coworkers. He fusses over them. Makes sure that they’re healthy and god forbid that anyone hurt one of his ‘boys.’ He handles those types of situations immediately but he couldn’t do anything about this without the cooperation of the concerned parties so he suggested a solution.”

“Which was?”

“I cancelled all of their appointments and per his request, I rescheduled them with John.”

“Doctor Watson was willing to take that chance? Wasn’t he worried about getting hurt?”

“He assured me that he could handle himself and I had no reason to doubt him.”

“Did anyone resent being shuttled to Doctor Watson?”

“At first they were unhappy because his contract is Oral Sex Only. You can imagine how well that news was received.”

“Then what happened?”

“They complained to me and I told them to give Doctor Watson a chance and if they weren’t satisfied, I’d refund their money and reschedule their regular appointments.”

“Would you really have done that knowing all the damage that they’d been inflicting?” 

“Absolutely not but if I’ve learned anything in this business it’s not to give clients bad news in your place of business. It never ends well.”

These men were just beating my employees for their own malicious pleasure which was in no way related to sex,” Irene said, eyebrows lowered, an angry look on her face.

“So, if they became repeat customers, I assume that they were satisfied with Doctor Watson’s…ah…service?”

Irene laughed. “Yes. After the very first visit, they were all talking about John and the amazing tricks he could do with his tongue…”

“We don’t need to go over that again.” Sherlock interrupted.

“Too bad. You really don’t know what you’re missing.” Irene said, a smile accompanying that statement. 

“You said that Doctor Watson would ‘handle’ the clients. Did he accomplish this through violence?” Sherlock asked, completely ignoring Irene’s last comment.

“Doctor Watson wouldn’t hurt a fly but he’s very good at defending himself if necessary. I had no doubt that things would go his way.”

“And how did he accomplish this amazing feat of taming the offenders?”

“With his silver tongue, of course.”

“I see.”

Checking her watch, Irene said, “It’s half nine, let me take you up to meet Doctor Watson.”

As they walked up the staircase, Sherlock found himself becoming nervous for some reason. It wasn’t as if this was his first interrogation. He hoped that he’d be able to get through this without staring at the Doctor’s mouth and imaging all the cocks that had taken up residence there. He shivered and Irene caught it out of the corner of her eye.

“Cold?” She asked.

“Just a chill,” he said offhandedly. 

“Here we are,” Irene stood in front the third door along the hallway and rapped three times. The door was immediately opened by a man of 5’9 tall, with cropped sandy blond hair, a shock of completely white hair in the front. 

He was dressed in casual clothes. Sherlock was surprised. He hadn’t expected the door to be answered by a man wearing a satin robe - Doctor Watson was aware that this was to be an interview about the crimes, after all - but he hadn’t expected him to be dressed as if he was headed for a walk in the park either.

“Right on time. Come in.” Watson said smiling and gestured for Sherlock to precede him into the room.

“If you need anything, just call the front desk and they’ll bring it right up.” Irene said before closing the door behind her.

Sherlock allowed his gaze to travel from Doctor Watson’s shoes to his chest with a moment too long spent staring at Watson’s crotch. Sherlock shook himself and continued his study until he’d reached Watson’s smirking face.

Sherlock colored and looked away.

“And how can I help you, Mr Holmes?” John asked.


	2. Glamorous John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can be VERY persuasive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. Not Brit-picked.

Sherlock looked at John, focusing on the bridge of his nose, feeling awkward about having been caught staring.

“I understand that the four victims were clients of yours?”

“They were,” John replied.

“Did you like them?”

“Not particularly,” John answered guilelessly 

“Yet you took them on as clients,” Sherlock said pointedly.

“Do you like all of your clients? I don’t have to like someone to suck their cock. It’s just a job, no different than yours.”

“It’s a bit different,” Sherlock said with a smile. 

“Ok. I’ll concede that point but it’s not personal to me. Just business,” John, hands in pockets, rocked back on his heels awaiting the next question.

“I understand that these men were known to have injured several of your coworkers - repeatedly. How did that make you feel?”

“Silly question. It made me angry.”

“And how did you handle that anger as you, um…serviced them?” Sherlock asked somewhat awkwardly.

“How do you think I handled it? I sucked their cocks then sent them on their way,” John said bluntly.

Sherlock coughed abruptly and looked away again. This wouldn’t do. He was a grown man, this conversation shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable yet here he was, blushing to the roots of his hair. Sometimes it was a curse being this fair skinned. 

Sherlock looked up again. Did…yes, Watson was closer now and Sherlock hadn’t seen him move. That was…disturbing. How could he have missed that? 

The Doctor was now standing only an arms length away. He must have been too engrossed in his thoughts. That’s why he hadn’t noticed Watson move, he assured himself. It still left him with a slight feeling of unease. 

Sherlock felt a soft touch on his hip and saw that John had placed his hand there. He was in Sherlock’s personal space now and how had THAT happened? Why hadn’t he caught that?

Then he felt a touch on his belt and realized that it was now unbuckled. Doctor Watson had unbuckled his belt without his notice. Something was very wrong here.

Sherlock grabbed Watson’s wrist just as he was running a finger between his pants and his stomach.

“Ah. That won’t be necessary. This is strictly a conversation. No sex required.” Christ. He was blushing again. Still!

“You bought a very expensive chunk of time. Don’t you want to get your money’s worth?” John asked, grasping Sherlock other hip with his free hand. 

“I don’t want anything else. Just consider this a break.” Sherlock said nervously, still holding Watson’s wrist.

“What if I don’t want a break, Sherlock? May I call you Sherlock? And you must call me John,” he said, sliding the fingers of his free hand further into Sherlock’s pants.

“I don’t want…this is way off topic. If we can get back to discussing the victims…” Sherlock said nervously.

“Ask your questions. I’m very good at multitasking,” John said, his free hand now brushing the tip of Sherlock’s stiffening cock. And when had THAT happened?

Sherlock grabbed John’s other hand.

“John…this is highly inappropriate. Let’s get back to the murders.”

“Ok,” John said, removing his hands from Sherlock’s person.

“Good, well…are you a violent man, John?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse. You know perfectly well what I meant,” Sherlock snapped. He was standing there, a bed in plain sight, with a hard cock asking questions. He had to get back on track.

“Were you ever violent with those particular men?” Sherlock asked.

“You know, you’ve been talking to me for the past 20 minutes and you still haven’t met my gaze. I’d appreciate it if you’d look me in the eye when you’re talking to me. It’s just proper manners.”

“I apologize,” Sherlock said, and looked up and into the deepest, darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were…mesmerizing. He couldn’t look away.

John closed the distance between them again.

“Don’t you find me attractive, Sherlock?” 

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock answered immediately. That was wrong. Why did he say that.

“Don’t you want me to suck you’re cock? I’m very good. Very, very good.”

“Yes. I’d like that but I’m working on this case,” Sherlock replied as if this was a normal conversation. He tried to stop answering John’s questions but it was almost as if he was compelled to not only answer, but answer honestly. Nothing good could come of this.

“Your case will wait. They’ll still be dead, won’t they?” John asked, staring into Sherlock’s eyes.

“I have to catch the murderer,” Sherlock replied in a monotone voice.

“You’re going to take a break now, Sherlock. Ok?”

“I really shouldn’t…” Sherlock began.

“Well, aren’t you the stubborn one,” John said in something that sounded close to awe.

“The work is the most important thing.”

“Let’s talk about your work,” John said, reaching out and unbuttoning Sherlock’s trousers.

“Stop,” Sherlock said but there was no heat behind it.

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” John asked, undoing Sherlock’s flies.

“No…but…there’s something I need to do,” Sherlock said, now clearly confused.

“We’ll get back to that. You have plenty of time left,” John said, reaching his hand into Sherlock’s pants and grasping his cock.

“That’s…oh…” Sherlock closed his eyes.

“No. No. Look at me.”

Sherlock opened his eyes obediently and stared into those twin pools of darkness that were John Watson’s eyes.

“I don’t want to do anything against your will, Sherlock. Are you willing?” John said, stroking Sherlock’s cock.

“I shouldn’t be but I am,” Sherlock stated flatly.

“How long has it been since someone touched you like this?” John began slowly stroking Sherlock’s cock.

“Forever,” Sherlock replied.

“No one’s ever touched this gorgeous cock?” John asked, amazed.

“The work is everything. I don’t care about anything else.”

“It seems that you’re cock disagrees,” John said as he squeezed the tight flesh.

“I’ve heard that they have a mind of their own.”

John laughed.

“They do indeed. Here, let’s take these tight clothes off,” John said and proceeded to strip Sherlock naked.

“Isn’t that better?” John asked, running his hands up and down Sherlock’s flanks.

“Yes.”

John began trailing kisses down Sherlock’s neck, pausing to lick each nipple in turn then blowing cold air on them causing them to stand at attention.

“Oh, god,” Sherlock moaned.

John slid down Sherlock’s body until he was on his knees, Sherlock’s plump cock in his face.

Still gazing into Sherlock’s eyes, John said, “I’m going to suck you’re cock now, Sherlock. Is that ok?”


	3. Busy Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock get busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual: Unedited. Not Brit-Picked.

“Please,” Sherlock panted.

“First I’d like to make a…suggestion. Ok?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t be able to maintain eye contact with you through this so I want you to remember that you’re happy to be here and very anxious to have your cock sucked. I don’t want you to think about work. Just think about what I’m doing to you and how good it feels. Ok?”

“Yes.”

“One other thing. I want you to express yourself vocally. I want to hear your excitement, your passion, it’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I want to hear you moan and beg. Can you do that for me, Sherlock?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” John said, wrapping his lips around Sherlock’s cock and sucking him into the back of his throat.

Sherlock’s breath hitched but he didn’t make any other sounds. John set up a punishing rhythm and Sherlock’s cock became further engorged.

Still no sound from Sherlock other than the occasional sigh and moan. John removed his mouth from Sherlock’s cock.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Yes, John.”

“Yes, John.”

“Why aren’t you making any noise? Doesn’t this feel good?”

“I do but…I’m embarrassed.”

“You’re under a glamor and you’re still embarrassed? You’re a very interesting man with incredible will power. I might have to keep you. Would you like that, Sherlock?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” John laughed. He’d never met anyone this resistant to his charms.

“On whether I’ll still be able to work on cases,” Sherlock said without inflection.

“I think we can find time for that,” John said, stroking Sherlock’s cock.

“Now, will you scream for me? Beg me to suck you? Tell me how much you want me?” John asked, then resumed sucking Sherlock down until he’d reached the back of his throat and John swallowed around Sherlock’s head.

Suddenly, it was as if a damn had burst inside Sherlock. He began shouting every thought as it entered into his mind. 

“Oh god! Yes! Suck my cock! Please! You’re amazing! I never want you to stop. Please John. 

He felt like he should be embarrassed by this but…it seemed unimportant at the moment and the words seemed to pour out of their own accord.

“Make me come. I want to come in your mouth. Please let me come in your mouth!” Sherlock yelled, putting his hands on John’s head, forcing him to take Sherlock’s cock deeper.

John moaned and kept sucking. This was the sexiest man he’d ever met. This was the best experience he’d ever had sexually and that was saying something. 

After a slight struggle between John trying to stop sucking and Sherlock refusing to let him go, John was able to pull his mouth off of Sherlock with a pop.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, are you listening?”

“Yes. Please. Don’t stop. I want you so much!”

“I want you too but I wanted to ask you to do something for me.”

“Anything…” Sherlock sighed.

“When I put my mouth on your cock again…”

And here, Sherlock gave a loud groan.

“I want you to put your hands back on my head and fuck my mouth as hard and fast as you want to. Just do whatever feels good to you. I’m your willing servant, here for your pleasure. Use me. Can you do that for me?”

“God. Yes! I want that!”

John placed his lips around Sherlock’s cock head and barely had a chance to take a breath before Sherlock’s hands were in his hair, forcing his cock inside John’s mouth so deeply that his nose pressed against Sherlock’s pubic bone and John loved it.

Spreading his thighs, Sherlock held John’s head still while he snapped his hips back and forth, roughly fucking John’s mouth without a care as to whether or not he was hurting him. 

John fondled Sherlock’s balls with his free hand, inhaling their musky scent. 

He could feel Sherlock getting close but there was one more thing that he wanted to do. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small tube of lubricant. Resting the tube in his hand, he slowly twisted the cap off between his thumb and forefinger. Shaking the cap off, John squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. Taking his other hand off of Sherlock’s cock, he steadied himself against one of his hips and reached around Sherlock’s delicious arse, sliding his finger down the cleft until he’d reached his prize. Sherlock shuddered and moaned.

John circled Sherlock’s hole with his index finger, teasing the tip in and and out until finally plunging his finger completely into Sherlock’s tight heat.

“Yes! Fuck me with your finger, John!!”

Sliding another finger in, he pumped Sherlock’s hole several times until Sherlock set his own rhythm, fucking John’s mouth and on the withdrawal, fucking John’s fingers.

John was so hard he thought he might burst. He needed to fuck Sherlock before he shot his load and became too sensitive to take John’s cock.

John added another finger and Sherlock lost it. Panting and moaning he forced John’s head onto his cock then pushed back against John’s fingers harder. 

Using his clean hand, John placed his hand on Sherlock’s hip and locked his elbow effectively stopping Sherlock from thrusting forward. He pulled his mouth off of Sherlock’s cock and removed his fingers from his hole. Sherlock gave a whine of protest.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I have something better for us. I want, no. I need to fuck you, will you let me? I promise you that it’ll feel wonderful.”

Sherlock was quiet for a few moments, the only sound his heavy breathing.

“Yes. I want that too, John.”

“I’m going to rail the hell out of you, love. Go to the bed and lay on your left side, right leg pulled up towards your chest. Go on.” John patted Sherlock’s chest to move him along and began slicking his cock with lube.

Once Sherlock had put himself into the requested position, John lay behind him and rocked his cock against Sherlock’s arse once, twice, three times then slid his cock down until the head was just at Sherlock’s hole.

“Let’s take this nice and slow,” John said, one hand on Sherlock’s hip while he slowly eased in.

“Oh god,” Sherlock moaned as he tried to force himself onto John’s cock.

“Easy, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you,” John was using every bit of willpower he had to keep from shoving his cock in all at once. Even though John had cheated and used glamour to move things along, he still wanted Sherlock’s first time to be good. Being unable to walk afterwards was not good and so he took his time easing in until he was fully seated in Sherlock’s snug heat.

“You’re gorgeous. You know that Sherlock, don’t you?” 

“I’m slightly above average in looks, John. My brain is my true gift,” Sherlock said matter of factly.

John laughed, “You’re a bit full of yourself, aren’t you, love?”

“I’m full of you,” Sherlock said, thrusting back.

“Good lord. You’re going to cripple me before this night is over!” 

“Less talking, more fucking. Fuck me, John. You feel so good inside me. Harder, harder…OH!!”

John reached around and grabbed Sherlock’s cock with his slick hand and began pumping him in counter point to John’s cock entering him. 

Soon, they were both sweaty and breathing heavily, grinding back and forth.

“John. Oh god. I’m going to come! Come with me! I want to feel your cock pulse inside of me.”

John’s fangs dropped down and he pulled Sherlock tight against himself. John slid his fist back on Sherlock’s cock one more time and suddenly he was coming all over his hand, his hole spasming around John’s cock. 

As John felt himself coming, he bit into Sherlock’s neck and drank while his cock emptied itself deeply into Sherlock.

They lay together afterwards, panting, trying to get their breath back. John hugged Sherlock tight to his chest.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Sherlock. I think…I think that I could fall for you in a big way. It’s a bit scary. What do you think?”

“I feel the same way. I’ve always considered love at first sight to be a myth but one look at you and I knew I had to have you.

“Will you come back to me? Let me take you on a proper date?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, John.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?” John asked, nuzzling Sherlock’s neck with a smile on his lips.

“Yes. Of course. I can’t let you go now.”

“I feel the same way.”

“John, may I ask you a question about the murders?”

“Yes. What would you like to know?”

“Did you kill those men?”


	4. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition.

“That’s an awfully lucid question from someone under a glamor,” John said.

“The work is the most important thing,” Sherlock stated flatly.

“You did say that. Well, I guess there’s no harm in telling you since you won’t remember any of this anyhow; 

Yes, I killed them but they didn’t suffer which is more than I can say for their victims.”

“Called police?” Sherlock asked.

“You’re asking why I didn’t call the police? And complain that some trust fund babies were beating up prostitutes? Yeah. I don’t think that would have been a very popular decision. The majority of our clients run in the same crowd and wouldn’t like their ‘secret’ getting out. They’d call their friends and have those pesky little charges dropped within the hour, if they were charged at all. Not one of those guys would have spent a night in jail much less gone to trial. 

No. It would have only drawn negative attention to Irene’s business and cost people their jobs. The wrong people would get hurt - again. I pushed my anger down deep and carried on, business as usual. I’d taken care of the staff; no one was getting hurt anymore; I thought I could ignore what had been done. Well, not ignore it but…try not to dwell on it. That didn’t last long.”

“What changed?” Sherlock asked, sounding more alert. 

“Pillow talk. Nothing loosens the tongue like great sex. Especially oral sex, it seems,” John laughed.

“During their visits, they’d each brag a bit about abusing my coworkers. As if I’d find it funny. 

When they’d exhausted those stories, they began to go further back in time and although it was from four different perspectives, they all had a common theme; sexual assault. They had an uncanny knack for finding men who for whatever reason, wouldn’t or couldn’t report them. 

The more I heard, the angrier I got. Unfortunately, I have a terrible temper and I’d heard one giggle too many. Enough bragging. 

Many people think that if you’re a sex worker, you don’t matter. That you can tell us anything and we’ll just listen and admire how amazing, rich, and cruel you are. 

Sure, sometimes a worker might sell a story here or there but the majority remains hidden. Going to the paper might get you a large chunk of cash but it’s not enough to live on. Eventually you’d run out and then what? 

No. Having a reputation as being someone who’s able to keep secrets combined with amazing skills in the bedroom is a bit more lucrative.”

“What was the last straw?” Asked Sherlock.

“One told me that I was lucky that I was so amazing at sucking cock, otherwise I’d be sporting the same bruises as the others. Then they started telling me about the homeless men they’d begun beating for “fun.” After all, “who cared what happened to the homeless?”

“I would,” Sherlock said under his voice. John didn’t hear him and continued;

“I heard their stories of broken bones, kicked out teeth, gang rape… Ironically, it seemed very important to them that I knew that they used condoms, as if that made everything ok. Finally, I’d heard enough.” John went silent, a far away look in his eyes as he idly trailed a finger down Sherlock’s arm.

“How did you manage to lure them out? They already had a sure thing by seeing you here. Irene would have blacklisted the four from ever entering the establishment again and then fire you for freelancing. What would make it worth the risk?”

“That was easy. I just told each one independent of the others, that they were the best I’d ever had. That I’d suck their cocks for free if they promised not to tell the others. Easy. I told them that if they spilled the secret, no more blow jobs from me in private OR the at the brothel. They readily agreed. It fed into their belief that they were somehow better than other people, including each other.”

“How could you be sure that they wouldn’t tell each other? They were so competitive, I’d think that they’d want to brag to each other about it.”

“Obviously I knew that they’d never had any intention of keeping it quiet. That’s what I was counting on. They were each too smug for that. It was more important to them to brag about their amazing cock skills and how even a pro preferred them to the others. As if there’s any skill required to have your cock sucked. Imbeciles.” John rolled his eyes.

“I arranged to meet them one at a time…” 

“But. On the banks of the Thames? The smell must have been atrocious at low tide,” Sherlock interrupted.

“Not too bright, remember?” John said, tapping his temple.

I knew that would hold them for a bit but that their egos wouldn’t let them keep that score to themselves for long. Criminals always think that they’re smarter than everyone else. Each thought that they could get the rest to keep the secret and I’d never find out. So I added a little glamor for insurance using their egos against them. They were more than happy and smug to have something that the others hadn’t. As each one died, they’d come to me cry the entire time that I was blowing them. I probably would have spread the killings out over a longer period of time if I hadn’t become angrier with each meeting. They sickened me and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.”

“What happened to their necks?”

“I happened to them. I drank their blood until I heard their heartbeat begin to stutter, then I drank the rest until their hearts finally gave out. I couldn’t leave teeth marks on the bodies so I tore their necks apart to ensure that Scotland Yard wouldn’t be able to find me by dental x-rays. No one believe in vampires anyhow so it was easy.

“Are you repulsed by me now? A vampire murderer? Not that it matters since you won’t remember any of this later,” John asked

“Of course not. I understand why you did what you did. Although I rarely indulge myself, I’ve been known to employ some vigilante justice from time to time. There are occasions were prisons just won’t do,” Sherlock replied.

“You’re very talkative for someone I’ve glamoured. Usually the person doesn’t care about things like facts or their work and they’re never so animated during a consultation. I wish that I could let you remember all of this but I can’t take the risk of being locked up in a small prison cell. I’d go insane.” 

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” Sherlock asked, puzzled. 

“Because this is all a glamor. The feelings are real but you never would have acted on them so quickly, if at all, if I hadn’t forced you too.”

“No one forces me to do anything that I don’t want to do, John,” Sherlock said matter of factly. 

“Really? What if I told you to lie on your back and spread your legs?”

Sherlock immediately turned onto his back and obligingly spread his legs.

“You are to maintain this position, no matter what I do to you. Understood?”

“Yes, John.”

John began kissing his way down Sherlock’s body stopping for a suckle of his nipple. Sherlock entire body tensing.

Continuing down, John placed a gentle kiss on the delicate skin between Sherlock’s thigh and groin.

Sherlock moaned but quickly silenced himself.

With a heavily lidded gaze, John looked up at Sherlock and said;

“None of that. I want to hear you. How does it make you feel when I do this?” John began kissing Sherlock’s cock, ending with a nip at the corona. 

Sherlock inhaled sharply.

“Worried,” he replied.

John laughed and continued in his ministrations until he finally began sucking on Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock remained motionless on the bed, every muscle in his body quivering with excitement. 

John increased his focus on sucking, licking, and stroking Sherlock’s cock, his own arousal clear in his frenzied motions.

Stopping suddenly, John looked up at Sherlock and said;

“I need to bite you, Sherlock. I want to drink down your excitement. Would you like it if I bit you here?” John asked, placing a kiss on Sherlock’s femoral artery on his inner thigh.

“I don’t think that I would,” Sherlock replied.

“Yes you would. Your so excited that you’d let me do anything I’d like to you, wouldn’t you.” John stated.

“No. I don’t think I’d like that,” Sherlock replied, now sounding a little unsure.

“Sherlock. Look at me.”

Sherlock gazed into his eyes, transfixed.

“Not only do you want me to bite you, you actually asked me to do it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I want it,” Sherlock sighed out.

“I thought so. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” John said, tracing the artery with a finger.

“Do you believe me?” John asked.

“No.” Sherlock said flatly.

“Yes, you do. You are incredibly turned on by the idea. You told me so yourself, didn’t you?” John asked.

“Yes, John.”

“Good, good,” John said, grazing his sharpened canines against Sherlock’s inner thigh ending with with a kiss.

Suddenly, without further warning, John plunged his fangs into Sherlock’s femoral artery, drinking deeply.

“Oh. Oh my god! This is, this is…” Sherlock groaned, placing his hand on John’s head, tangling his fingers in his soft hair.

Reducing his feeding to a slow trickle, John began grinding his cock agains the mattress, simultaneously stroking Sherlock with his free hand.

Between the sucking and stroking, Sherlock couldn’t hold on any longer, spending himself on his stomach with a satisfied sigh. 

With hard and fast strokes, John came on the mattress, relaxing into a boneless heap between Sherlock’s thigh. He licked the puncture marks closed and, with a final kiss, rested his head on Sherlock’s thigh. 

“I wish I could let you remember this,” John said regretfully.

“Why do you keep saying that I won’t remember this?” Sherlock asked, puzzled.

“Because I have secrets and now you know them. I can’t take the chance that you’ll report me to the police. Murder is bad enough, but vampirism? There’s no such thing as vampires and we’d like it to stay that way. Leave everyone to their eroticized horror, I don’t think that we’d be received just as wholeheartedly by the public.”

“I’d never tell your secrets, John,” Sherlock said solemnly.

“I’m sorry but I can’t take that chance.”

“You have no choice,” Sherlock stated.

“I have no choice? Me? I think you’re confused as to who’s in charge here.” John laughed.

“I’m in charge of myself. I can’t be made to do anything. Ask my brother.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it then.”


	5. Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock annoying John, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted this to be a lot shorter but it wouldn't end. I have an entire spare chapter of nonsense that I'm not posting. I know that the ending drags well past where it should have ended but I finally gave up cutting things out and posted what was left.
> 
> I hope it's still entertaining.

“How?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t know…wait! I have it. Walk into the hallway, naked, and yell ‘I’m Sherlock Holmes and I love sex!’ How’s your willpower now? Hmm?” John asked.

Sherlock was still for a moment, contemplating what to do, finally he turned to John and said, “I’m afraid that I can’t do that John. I don’t mind exposing my intelligence but I’m very particular about who sees my naked body,” Sherlock finished primly.

“Sherlock, do what I told you! Now!” John demanded.

“Ask something else,” Sherlock said.

“No. I told you what to do and you’ll do it.” John said angrily.

Sherlock slid up until his back rested on pillows, crossed his legs at the ankles and said,

“If you’re so keen on it, do it yourself. Go ahead. I’ll wait.” Sherlock said, brushing a nonexistent piece of dust off of his naked chest.

John sat, gobsmacked. This had never happened before. It had worked, he knew it had.

“So, are you telling me that from the beginning, you were never in a glamor?” John asked, annoyed.

“No John. I’m sorry.”

“Well, why did you play along then?!” John shouted.

“Please, John. Lower your voice.”

“Just get on with it,” John grumbled.

“The minute that I set eyes on you, I knew that I wanted you, however, I’m not very, um…good in the sexuality department. I wasn’t going to do anything besides interviewing you.”

“You seemed perfectly content with it to me,” John said, annoyance still clear in his voice.

“Well, you started trying to hypnotize me and I decided to go along with it. It’s very freeing to just lowering your defenses and enjoy yourself. I’ve never been interested in anything other than my work but you made me feel wanted were genuinely interested in me. How could I say no?”

“Easy. ‘No, John. I So you thought, what? That I was some kind of magician then?” John spat.

“I thought that you’d studied mesmerism. You also seemed to refuse to take no for an answer and I wanted to see how far you’d go. All the way, apparently.” Sherlock blushed.

“What about when I bit you? That had to throw you.”

“I thought it was just a kink and I enjoyed it. Why complain?” Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m a vampire, Sherlock,” John huffed.

“Well, I know that now. It was still enjoyable from beginning to end. For the first time in possibly decades, I was happy to be with another person so I indulged myself. I’m sorry if you’re offended,” Sherlock said sincerely.

“Yeah, well…” John ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that I’m more impressed than insulted. I haven’t had sex, actual intercourse, in at least three years. No interest. But then I saw you, with your almond shaped eyes and plush lips and I was intrigued. Then, you spoke and that was it. I had to fuck you.”

“How would you feel about leaving all of this,” Sherlock said, gesturing around the room, “And helping me in my work? There’s a spare bedroom in my flat that yours if you want it.” Sherlock waited for John’s response nervously.

“It’s, ah, a bit sudden, don’t you think?” John hedged.

“I rarely make mistakes and I always get what I want, and what I want right now is you, John Watson.”

“This is crazy. You don’t even know me.”

“I know that you’re a kind man with strong morals. You’re a doctor and very caring individual. I know that you were a surgeon in the army but were invalided out after being shot in your shoulder. I’m not quite sure where you served though. Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Wait. How could you know any of that?” John asked, nonplussed. 

“Come live with me and find out.” Sherlock leaned forward, took John’s hand and looked him in the eye.

“I’m an extremely good judge of character and I never misjudge a person. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. Plus, we’ve already bypassed the courtship phase. You’ve already had my cock in your mouth and fucked me ruthlessly up the arse. Well?”

“I wouldn’t call getting a blowjob and being fucked up the arse, proper steps to a sound romance. And I doubt you could pay me anywhere near what I’m making now.”

“True but you haven’t spent any of it anyhow. You’ve just been banking it so salary really isn’t an issue.”

“I’m not even going to ask you how you know that. I don’t think that Irene would appreciate my departure. I’m her number one generator of income here,” John hedged.

“I’ll handle Irene. Well? What will it be? You don’t need the money. You can leave this job at any time. John Watson, will you be my roommate?” 

“I don’t know. This is so sudden. I always said that if I was going to move in with someone, it wouldn’t happen without some serious vetting.” John stopped, thought for a second, then smiled.

“Ok. I’m in,” John said excitedly.

Sherlock pulled him close and whispered in his ear;

“I play the violin at all hours of the day and night, don’t speak for days, and perform experiments in the flat.”

John pulled back. “What? Violin experiments? I don’t think I heard that quite right.”

“Obviously. I do have one very important heads up for you; Mycroft.”

“What’s a “mycroft?”

“He’s my menace of a brother who won’t keep his fingers out of my pies,” Sherlock huffed.

“Hey! I’m the only one who’s going to be allowed to have his fingers anywhere near your pies!”

“But, seriously, I need to give you a little information about…”

John’s mobile rang. He looked at the number, ‘unlisted’. He was about to ignore it when stopped ringing just as quickly as it had started. His mobile then pinged notifying that he’d just received a text; also from an unlisted number.

John read the text aloud:

“Doctor Watson: Please excuse the call. I didn’t realize that I’d caught you in the middle of my brother. Please do contact me at your earliest convenience so that I can go over the rules with you.

—Mycroft”

“‘Rules?” What rules? And how the hell does he know what or who I’m in the middle of? And how the hell did he get my number. Fuck that. How does he even know who I am?”

“Mycroft is very nosey and always in my business hidden under the guise of protection and caring. As if he has anymore room in that body of his for one more thing.”

“So…do I call him back then? I don’t even have his number.”

John received another text from unknown number.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked.

“His number. It’s a little disconcerting that he puts his name at the end of his texts. I really don’t want to get in the middle of a family squabble.”

“You won’t. You won’t! You haven’t changed your mind have you?” Sherlock asked anxiously. 

“We’re moving too fast. We should take this slow. Maybe…”

Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Please don’t let my brother ruin this for us,” Sherlock said, eyes shining.

Just then, Sherlock’s mobile gave a text alert. Reaching down, he fished his mobile out of his suit coat and read the text in silence.

“Well? Is it Mycroft again?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Sherlock wordlessly handed over the mobile.

“Fine. You can keep him but make sure he stays out of trouble. I don’t want to have him…dealt with like the last one.

—Mycroft”

“The fuck, Sherlock? First of all, let’s talk about his spying on us.”

Sherlock waved that away.

“It’s a problem. I’m aware.”

“A PROBLEM?!”

“Mycroft is overly concerned with where I am and what I’m doing at any given moment. It’s not like I’m followed everywhere.”

John’s mobile rings again;

“Yes. I do have him followed everywhere.

—Mycroft”

“Don’t listen to that!” Sherlock said, not needing to look at the text to know the content.

“He was hinting around that he’d have me killed if I fell out of line!” John yelled, his mobile chiming simultaneously.

“Relax, Doctor Watson. I’m only joking.

—Mycroft”

Sherlock’s mobile went off while John was still reading his message.

“I’m not… 

—Mycroft”

John looked up.

“Well? What did he say this time?” 

“He assured me that he was just having you on,” Sherlock said, hoping that John wouldn’t ask to read the message.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really, Doctor Watson.

—Mycroft”

“I swear I feel like we’ve had this chat before.”

“Yes. Mycroft can be repetitive. Just ignore him. Most of what he says is nonsense anyway.” Sherlock replied, his mobile chiming immediately. He threw it down on his jacket.

“What in god’s name is your brother involved in that he follows you so closely? He’s not mobbed up, is he?”

“Well, that’s a tough question. He works in a section of the government with mob-like tendencies but, no, not officially the mob.”

“I actually more worried now.”

“Think of the fun we could have, evading him,” Sherlock teased.

“I don’t know…”

“My job is very dangerous, John. Especially when Mycroft calls me in to handle one of his little problems.” Sherlock’s mobile chimed again. He and John ignored it.

“Danger, eh?” John stroked his chin.

“You can keep your weapon,” Sherlock offered.

“My…how do you know about that.”

“I’m very observant…”

“This is nuts.”

“Indeed. None of this is in the least bit normal. I’m well aware of that. I think that we’d make a great team though, John. And you’d have your own room with the option to share my bed at any time. Permanently, if you desired. It’s not like you’d be a prisoner. You can move out of the flat at any time you’d like.” Sherlock looked into John’s eyes anxiously. 

“Danger, you say? How dangerous?”

“Very, with the occasional matter of life and death situation. What do you say?”

“Yes. I’ll give it a go. God help me.”

“Excellent!” Sherlock said, bending to retrieve his clothes.

“Not so fast. One more thing…”

Sherlock paused what he was doing and looked at John.

“Yes?”

“Come over here and I’ll tell you all about it.” John said, sitting on the bed and patting the mattress.

“We can talk at the flat.”

“Sherlock. Come over here now!” John said, throwing power behind it making it a command.

Sherlock stopped what he was doing, walked over and sat on the bed next to John.

“That’s better. Now, listen closely…” John said, pulling Sherlock closer to him. He applied kisses to Sherlock’s neck and cheek, finally ending at his earlobe and giving it a leisurely suck.

“Are you listening?” John asked.

“Yes, John.”

“I’m going to fuck you again, right now. How does that sound?” John asked, looking into Sherlock’s eyes and holding his gaze.

“I’m anxious to get you home, John.”

“As am I, however, I need to fuck that tight little arse of yours one more time before we go. Consider it my version of a farewell party. Now, be a good lad and get on your hands and knees before I lose my patience.”

“Yes, John,” Sherlock answered obediently, getting into position.

“You know, I think that you surrender to glamor fairly quickly when it’s something you want but don’t want to give in. Isn’t that right?” John said, opening the drawer in the nightstand and grabbing the lube.

“Yes, John.”

“There. We agree,” John said and began lubing up his cock.

He added a bit to Sherlock’s hole and slowly slid his index finger in.

“Do you think that Mycroft is still listening in?”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to fuck your brother now, Mycroft.” John said speaking to the lamp. 

He placed his slick cock against Sherlock’s entrance and slowly pushed in in one smooth motion.

“Oh god! He’s so warm and tight.” John said, slapping Sherlock arse.

“You’re a bit of a voyeur, aren’t you Mycroft. Are you enjoying this? Listening to me bang your brother while saying your name? This will make for some interesting talk in the conference room, don’t you think? You’re name being mentioned while I shag your brother raw. What will people think? Mycroft…still listening?” John’s mobile chimed and he help onto Sherlock’s hip while he leaned over to answer it putting it on speaker.

“You win, Doctor Watson. I’ll be taking my leave of you now. For what it’s worth, I don’t personally monitor everything that Sherlock does; I have people who do that and alert me when they feel that something requires my attention. I am in no way interested in Sherlock’s sex life. I’ve sent the staff to lunch for the next 90 minutes - I do hope that’s enough time for you to be…satisfied - so no one will be listening in for a bit. Goodbye.” Mycroft rang off.

“Well, that was easy. Now, where was I?” John said, throwing the phone aside. 

“You were fucking me,” Sherlock said a little breathlessly.

“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” John pulled out and slid in slowly again.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Sherlock.”

“I want you to fuck me so hard that I’ll barely be able to sit down for days.”

“What do you say?”

“Please. Please, John. Fuck me up the arse. Be as brutal as you want. I want it. I need it.” Sherlock gasped.

“Anything for you, my sweet,” John said as he pounded into Sherlock roughly. “Anything…”

***

Mycroft left the empty surveillance room to the sound of flesh on flesh as John fucked his brother, the door closed and locked automatically, cutting off the sounds of passion and excitement in an instant. 

“I wasn’t kidding, Doctor Watson. Hurt my brother in any way and you’ll be dead by morning. And it won’t be an easy or quick death. I’ll personally see to it.”


End file.
